Death's Angels Read online

  He ducked out through the main door of the building after Weasel and the Barbarian, and headed down into a dimly lighted side alley. They stopped there for the moment, in the shelter of the arch, glanced around to make sure they were not being observed, and then shucked their costumes. Underneath, they had different costumes and another set of masks. The Barbarian was garbed as a mountain troll, Weasel as a river pirate, Rik as a Priest of the Gibellian sect. The Barbarian’s mask was a particularly impressive one, and Rik suspected he took a childish delight in it.

  Moments later they headed out into the swirl of the crowd. The streets were packed even for a Solace Night masquerade. Everyone, no matter how poor, had some sort of costume, even if it was only a mask and a dyed robe. People swigged from bottles, sang, danced and chanted. Many smoked locoweed from water pipes. Children danced and played. Tonight they were allowed to join in the revels for as long as they could stay awake. Many clutched small dolls, or wooden toys. Some whipped tops in the street. Fireworks spurted skywards. An air of happiness filled the streets, communicating itself even to Rik despite his unease. He wondered where Leon was, and whether everything was going according to plan.

  After the first round of dancing Sardec watched Asea glide off to talk with Midori. They retired to a small table on the edge of the ballroom and sat there, while servants brought them refreshments. Sardec watched her go for a moment, and then retired to the other side of the hall, where the officers lounged and chatted.

  “I see you made quite an impression on the Lady Asea,” said Jazeray. There was a sardonic note in his voice that Sardec did not like in the slightest. Jazeray laughed a little too loudly and took another sip of his drink. He returned to discussing the entertainments they could find after the ball. It seemed there was a certain gambling house in the Pit where heavy stakes wagers were accepted and the whores were pretty. Marcus and Paulus listened eagerly. Sardec drank some more lunar wine. He felt his skin start to tingle. He felt wild and reckless and ready for anything. Most of all he wanted out of this mansion and away from the daunting Lady Asea. He wanted to regain a feeling of being in control of things.

  “Perhaps you would care to join us?” Marcus asked. Sardec was on the verge of refusing when Jazeray said. “Prince Sardec is far too staid to lower himself to such base entertainments.”

  “Perhaps I shall,” said Sardec, not sure exactly why he said it, but pleased to see the self-satisfied smirk vanish from Jazeray’s lips. “Now if you will excuse me, my brother officers, I think I shall mingle with the other guests.”

  “By all means, mingle,” said Jazeray, with a sardonic quirk of his eyebrow.

  “We shall send a messenger to tell you when we are leaving,” said Marcus. Sardec felt a strange lurch in the pit of his stomach. What was he getting himself into, he wondered?

  Rik stopped a street vendor and bought several sticks of skewered meat roasted over charcoal, then along with his two companions headed back inside Mama Horne’s. They had taken Weasel’s share of the money to the goldsmith’s. Only he would have known where to find a man who would be open for business on a night like this. They had changed most of the money there, and Weasel had left most of his on deposit. Rik had kept some gold pieces. They were more portable than pouches of silver.

  It did not look as if they had been spotted but it was difficult to tell whether they were being watched amid the madness of Solace.

  A glance showed him there were many people garbed as hill-men in the street. A closer look told him that some of these people might even belong to the clans. That was not something that reassured him.

  He headed back into Mama Horne’s. Inside he saw Rena. He was glad she was there. He walked over to her and bending over her shoulder kissed her on the cheek.

  “Hello pretty girl,” he said.

  “Hello, handsome man,” she said, recognising his voice. “I was wondering when your business would be over.”

  “It’s not over yet,” he said, looking at the doorway, and wondering when Leon would return. “I just wanted to wish you a wonderful Solace and tell you that you should buy the dress you wanted.”

  He pressed one of the gold coins he had gotten earlier from Bertragh into her hand. It was a small fortune, he knew, but for some reason he felt like making the gesture. He was not entirely sure why. He knew it was not from generosity, for he was not a generous man. It was in part because he was aware he would be doing something dangerous in the not too distant future, something that might lead to his death. If that was so, all the gold in the world would not make the slightest difference, and he wanted someone at least to have a pleasant memory of him.

  She looked down into her hand, not quite realising what it was he had given her. He could almost see her taking in the queen’s head on one side and the date of minting on the other.

  “Put it away before someone sees it,” he said.

  “Is it real?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “It’s loot.” Better to give her a story than tell her the truth or be evasive, he thought. Part of him knew it was madness. All he was doing was leaving a trail that the right eye could pick up on. Nonetheless the impulse to give was too strong for him. “I picked it up on campaign.”

  “I don’t want it. You might need it.”

  “I have more.” She pushed it back into his hand.

  “I still don’t want it. It’s yours.”

  “It’s yours now. I gave it to you.” He pushed both her hands together around the coin and then let go.

  “You mean it?”

  “If you don’t want it, give it away. I will not take it back.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him. “Why?”

  “You deserve a nice dress,” he said, neither wanting nor feeling capable of giving his real reasons. At that moment, he noticed that Leon has returned. He was garbed as the theatrical version of a river boatman. He waved urgently at Rik. It was time to get to work.

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “But you’ve only just got here.”

  “I have work to do.”

  “When will I see you again?”

  Maybe never, he thought. “As soon as I am done,” he said. The look in her eyes told him that somehow she had known what he was really thinking.

  Sardec strode into the small chamber. Colonel Xeno was there along with a number of ranking officers from the artillery and the hussars. Many of the junior officers were there too, standing at the edge of the group, hanging on to the words of their superiors. He paused for a moment to listen himself.

  “I think we shall soon show the Kharadreans what’s what,” said the hussar colonel. “We damn well should have showed them it when Koth first showed his ugly red head.”

  Sardec’s ears pricked up. Koth had been Orodruine’s General a century ago. His genius in the field had been instrumental in turning Kharadrea from a rebel province of the Old Empire into a full-fledged Realm.

  “I believe several of us tried that, Ascogne,” said Colonel Xeno. “As I recall, it was Koth who handed them their heads.”

  “By treacherous and unchivalrous conduct, my dear Xeno.”

  “Do you seriously expect anything else from a human general?” That got a good natured laugh from the listeners until Xeno added, “And I notice that we have all adopted his methods now, and why not? He defeated every general both Queens sent against him.”

  All eyes in the room were on the two colonels now. Other conversations had dropped to a murmur.

  You are surely not a revolutionist, colonel?” That too got a laugh from the assembled party. Sardec did not laugh. He wanted to hear what Xeno had to say.

  “No one could be further from it,” said Xeno. “I am merely pointing out a fact. Koth was never defeated in the field. Some say the Elder Race sued for peace because they knew he could not be.”

  An angry murmur went around the room now. Xeno clearly had consumed a little too much wine. It was the only
explanation for why he could suggest such a thing. Everyone knew that the humans could have been crushed by the Terrarchs if they had put forth their full strength. It was merely that casualties would have been so high it would have given the other side an advantage. Hence the peace and the use of Kharadrea as a buffer zone between the West and the Dark Empire.

  “Nonsense,” said Ascogne. “We merely needed to prepare for the greater threat posed by the Dark Empire. A threat we will now crush, once and for all. The Scarlet Queen will have what is rightfully hers.”

  That got rousing cheers from the officers, except Xeno and Sardec. Xeno took another sip of his wine. His eyelids drooped a little, but Sardec decided on close examination he was not drunk, perhaps he was even a little angry. He remembered something his father had told him once. Xeno had fought against Koth. His brother had died at the hands of Koth’s followers. It had not been a pleasant or heroic death either.

  “I have heard the humans in Kharadrea are planning on declaring an independent republic where Man and Terrarch are equal. Like those mad lands over the Great Ocean.”

  Now there was uproar. No one here believed such a thing possible. Sardec did not. It was unthinkable. The humans could no more be trusted to rule themselves than monkeys. It would be like giving a mob of gutter scum the keys to a mansion.

  “We shall crush such heretical nonsense,” said Ascogne.

  “Like we crushed Koth?” said Xeno.

  “We were not even trying then. If our hands had not been tied we would have won.”

  “Would we?”

  “My dear Xeno, we have dragons. We have sorcery. We have our own well-trained humans. My boys are more than a match for any damned Kharadrean scum or Sardean slaves, I will wager. So are yours. And we have Lord Azaar leading us. He has never been defeated either.”

  Sardec could almost read Xeno’s thoughts. For a moment, he seemed about to say that Azaar had never faced Koth, but he quite clearly decided it would be impolitic. His mouth snapped shut like a trap and then he said; “Obviously you are correct, my dear Ascogne. Let us have another drink and toast the health of Lord Azaar.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Ascogne.

  Sardec felt a touch on his elbow. It was Paulus.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  “You saw where he went?” Rik asked Leon. Around them dancers crazed on wine and locoweed revelled through the streets of the Pit. Across from them in the mouth of an alley a man had a girl pinned against a wall. Her skirt was hiked up, her legs wrapped around him. His rear end pumped. A small crowd had gathered to watch them and shout encouragement. No one paid the slightest attention to Rik or Leon.

  “They went straight back to the mansion. They used the trade entrance” Rik breathed a sigh of relief. At least he had some idea of what the inside of that place was like. It would have been a lot more difficult if they had gone somewhere else.

  “You sure it was them?”

  “They stayed on the street and they did not change their costumes. I never lost sight of them.”

  “And they never caught sight of you?”

  “What do you take me for?”

  “A Sorrow street urchin who somehow tricked the Queen’s Army into taking him on!”

  “Not much gets past you.”

  “You did well and I am grateful.” He passed Leon a gold coin as well. He held it concealed in the cup of his hand and looked at it once before it vanished into his purse. Immediately Rik cursed this urge to give the money away that had suddenly come over him.

  “Is that what I think it is, Rik?” They pushed out into the crowd of revellers. Somewhere off down an alley came the bang of fireworks and then the sound of a scream. At least Rik hoped it was fireworks. He kept his hand on his pistol just in case.

  “It is.”

  “That’s a lot of money for a simple thing.”

  “Only half of it is yours. I want you to keep the rest for me.”

  “Can do. Where did you get it?”

  “Ask no questions, get no lies.”

  “Enough said. You planning a high wire act?”

  “Could be.”

  “Want any help?”

  “Not this time.”

  “Maybe going to pay the factor a little visit? That’s ambitious. I didn’t think you had even cased the joint.”

  “I spent some time inside it the other day.”

  “No inside help though? No bribed watchmen or nothing?”

  “No.”

  “You going mad in your old age? That’s not something you should do.” Rik wondered how much he should tell Leon and decided on as little as possible.

  “He has something I want and tonight’s the only night I can get it.” That was not strictly speaking true. Rik could burgle the mansion any night, but there was never a better time for crime than Solace night. Even the watchmen would be half-drunk, just like most of the criminals. Rik had his gear on his person already. He hoped it would be enough. He told himself he had done this sort of thing a hundred times before, tonight was nothing different, but he did not quite believe it.

  “I’ll walk over there with you,” said Leon. “You’ll need someone to watch your back.”

  “It’s Solace night,” said Rik, stepping over the body of a drunk, masked and robed as a Dragon Priest. It might have been the real thing or it might have been a reveller, he did not know. “Surely you have better things to do.”

  “There are still hill-men about,” said Leon seriously.

  “Yes,” said Rik glancing around warily. “I suppose there are.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sardec looked out through the window of the coach and into the revelling crowd. He took another puff of the opiated locoweed in the erotically carved pipe Marcus had handed to him. The lunar wine seemed to have broken through all his defences. He was out of the palace, out of sight of Asea and out of control and he was enjoying it. There was something exciting about tonight, he thought. The music, the fireworks, the lewd behaviour, the obvious joy of the crowd was a total contrast to the decorousness of Asea’s ball. Whatever else you thought about humans, they knew how to have fun. He almost envied them their primitive earthy behaviour.

  When Paulus offered him another swig of the lunar wine, he took it. He even laughed at some of Jazeray’s observations on the revellers outside the window.

  It was with a growing sense of anticipation that he climbed out of the coach on the edge of the Pit. It was a place of dark legend to the junior officers of the camp, but it was obvious from their knowledgeable air that these three had been here before, at least once. Jazeray summoned a linkboy with a snap of his fingers.

  “Mama Horne’s” he said, and flipped the boy a silver coin.

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  Within heartbeats they were on their way into the dark, corrupt maze that he knew was the heart of the human part of every city. The stench was incredible as was the sense of bustling life. Everywhere was decorated with Solace lanterns. Costumed people emerged from the shadows like demons sprung to life. Part of him wondered what he was doing here. This was a place that could be dangerous for his kind, he knew. To these people he must be carrying a fortune.

  But part of him revelled in the danger, in the idea of breaking out of the strictures of his life, in the sense that anything was possible. Here was a place where all the darkest of desires could be sated. Here was a place where, for a moment, he could escape from the constrictions of his ancient lineage and the role of ruler. He felt guilty that he could even admit such things to himself, but at the same time he acknowledged the truth. There seemed to be only one thing to do and that was have another swig from Marcus’s hip-flask when it was offered, and to see what was to come.

  Certainly the people around them did not seem dangerous. This masquerade was the one time of the year when, by ancient tradition, the differences between the rulers and the ruled could be forgotten, and they seemed intent on taking advantage of it.

  �
��Hello dearie,” called a girl in the mask of a cat. “Bet you are a handsome devil beneath that mask.” She reached out and stroked his face. Under normal circumstances, Sardec would have been repulsed, but with the alcohol in his belly, the drug in his lungs and the drumming music throbbing in his veins, he found it perversely erotic. The sense of shame he felt made it only more so. He had always told himself that wanting to sleep with a human woman was like wanting to sleep with a sheep.

  Now, it seemed something long buried was emerging from the depths of his mind. Briefly he considered turning back, of running from this place before all the barriers came down, but he could not. There was no way he could find his way back, and the Pit was a dangerous place for a Terrarch to walk alone.

  As if to confirm this, Paulus said; “Stick close and keep your hands on your weapons. This place is full of wolves.” Even as he said it a woman emerged from the crowd to kiss him full on the mouth and then be pulled back into the crowd by a male partner.

  Anything could happen tonight, Sardec thought, anything at all.

  Lighted glitter-boats plied the river. Inside and outside every tavern masked people drank and sang. Musicians played in the streets. People jigged to the sound of pipe and fiddle. Even here Rik saw that not all the drunks were as intoxicated as they pretended. There were still pickpockets and footpads about their business tonight, even if far fewer than normal. He was glad Leon was with him. Such scavengers were less likely to attack two seemingly sober men when there was plenty of easier prey about.